


There Will be Better Days

by SydneyCarton



Category: The Pacific (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Christmas, Christmas Eve, Christmas Fluff, Christmas Tree, Driving, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Eugene Sledge just wants to help his friend out, First Kiss, Guilt, Holidays, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, M/M, Nighttime, Snafu doesn't know how to talk about his feelings, Texting, The Pacific, Theft, Unsafe driving, don't look at you phone when driving, not following the law, sledgefu, song mention but it's not a song fic, tomorrow by miner, unsafe home environment
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-29
Updated: 2018-12-29
Packaged: 2019-09-29 15:25:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,578
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17205938
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SydneyCarton/pseuds/SydneyCarton
Summary: "Even bathed in morning light Snafu didn’t have a face that could be painted. Every angle, every harsh line was carved in stone."***Eugene gets a series of frantic texts from Snafu in the middle of the night. It's Christmas Eve.





	There Will be Better Days

**Author's Note:**

> Hello! This is my slightly late present for you this year. I'm sorry if it's not up to snuff, it's been a while since I've written anything like this. In honor of getting halfway through senior year here is a Sledgefu high school AU oneshot! I hope you enjoy xx

“I can’t listen to another second of this holiday shit,” Snafu says, slapping at the radio panel until his fingers eventually land on the volume. Paul McCartney’s  _ Wonderful Christmas Time _ cuts off abruptly, replaced by the muted hum of the engine and the  _ brrr _ of spinning wheels.

“You don’t like McCartney?” Eugene reaches out a finger to push down the indicator. Metronomic ticking fills the car until he finishes turning. The intersection is deserted, and although on Christmas Eve most cops were probably patrolling busier roads, he didn’t want to risk getting pulled over. He had barely passed his test six months ago, let alone the twelve required to drive unrelated passengers. Getting his license revoked on Christmas for having Snafu in the car would be a real drag.

“I give appreciation where it’s due,” Snafu says, raising a hand to gesture at nothing in particular. Eugene takes his eyes off the empty road for a second, catching a glimpse of a sharp profile in the dark. He sees the silhouette of a skinny wrist in the air, bent as if to accommodate for an invisible dinner plate, thin fingers extended and flat. “Hearin’ that one sucks the life outta me, I swear.” 

“S’ still better than  _ Do You Hear What I Hear _ .”

“An’ playin’ it once ain’t never enough for ‘em.”

“Some people listen to Christmas music all year long,” Eugene says, eager to keep him talking. Not a word had passed his lips since Eugene picked him up over an hour ago. 

“Bastards,” Snafu says, but huffs a tiny breath Eugene thinks might be a laugh.

Small victories.

***

After receiving a series of frantic texts close to one in the morning Eugene hadn’t even wasted time changing out of his pajamas before dashing out the back door. He took the car parked farthest away from his parents’ bedroom, hands shaking as he adjusted the mirror and crept out of the driveway. A cold hand wove itself through his guts as he had driven the familiar route on auto-pilot, frenzied thoughts of what might’ve happened running through his head. 

He knew something had been wrong for a long time. 

He should have done something sooner.

Eugene’s grip on the wheel tightens and his throat feels like it’s closing up. 

He’s a damn fool. 

Snafu never spoke about it. In fact, he avoided speaking about his life at home all together. Eugene and Burgie exchanged looks when Snafu started fights with Bill Leyden to steer conversations away from summer vacation, grandparents, and birthdays. He saw it in the way Snafu stayed after school as long as he could, how he refused the food their friends offered at lunch but stole from the cafeteria. He had jagged edges to him that cut people like broken glass. Most couldn’t put up with it. 

Eugene found him up against a street sign two blocks away from his house: shoes untied, a cigarette’s glowing ember burning down between his bloody fingers. He looks like a ghost under the lamppost’s harsh light. The car rolled to a stop and the scrawny boy got in without a word. Eugene clicked on the ceiling light and reached into the backseat for the blanket Sidney had gotten him the year before as an end-of-Junior-year gift.

_ “For when you fall asleep studying AP Bio,” his friend had said, a smile playing across his face. _

It was covered in a cutesy flower pattern. Eugene leaned across the arm rest and offered the blanket to Snafu in the muted yellow light. He took it, the red on his hands staining the pale green cotton. 

Eugene couldn’t bring himself to care all that much.

Snafu’s face was frightening in the yellow light. A cut somewhere in his hairline bled down the side of his face. The skin around his left eye was stained violet. Eugene clicked the light off and shifted into drive. He didn’t ask where Snafu wanted to go, because he knew he wouldn’t get an answer.

***

They drive in comfortable silence, going nowhere in particular. Eugene’s a pretty decent driver and they coast smoothly down the Alabama roads, high beams illuminating the empty expanse of tarmac and the occasional sign before them. They don’t speak, but that’s okay. At least they don’t need to worry about gas money. Eugene’s parents have put enough on his debit card to get them to Connecticut.

Every now and then Eugene’s focus on the road flickers to the boy sitting in the passenger seat. His knees are drawn up to his chest so that he’s curled up on the leather seat. The blanket is wrapped around him, and he’s staring out the window. There isn’t much to look at, but as the digital clock ticks forward on the dash the sky slowly grows lighter. He gulps, looking back at the road. Snafu never prided himself on being a good speaker. He could get himself into arguments quick and easy: pushing people’s buttons like it was second nature, cussing up a blue streak. But ask him how he’s feeling and suddenly it’s like he’s fumbling around, trying to learn English again.

Eugene starts a bit when he hears him shift under the blanket. He had grown accustomed to the silence.

“It’s fuckin’ stupid,” Snafu drawls, letting his head fall to the side so that it hits the window with a light  _ thud _ . Eugene can feel his eyes on him. 

“I’m sure it’s not.” 

“Didn’t get a tree this year,” he says after a few seconds. “I said I’d pay for it with the money I saved from the gas station, but he didn’t wanna hear. Said I was too old anyways. Kinda set me off, I guess.”

_ “Is that why he hit you,” _ Eugene wants to say, but bites his tongue. It wouldn’t help anything. 

“Haven’t had a tree for so long. Don’t know why it’s fuckin’...botherin’ me so much this year,” Safu says, and Eugene looks over. His eyes are closed now. 

He presses his lips together and exhales slowly when he gets that  _ feeling _ in his stomach. That useless, unsettling feeling he always gets when something like this happens. He doesn’t know what to say; he doubts anything he can say will make it better. He wishes that were so. He wishes that he could say a sentence or two and make Snafu forget all of the bad things, make him happy. He feels guilty for having two sets of grandparents, two parents, and a brother who loves him unconditionally. Why should he have that when all his best friend has is a drunkard of a father who only speaks to his son when shouting for a beer from the ratty couch or bashing him around. But he knows that’s silly. If he mentioned feeling guilty about it he doesn’t know whether Snafu would laugh at him or punch him. 

He doesn’t know what to say. 

Oh, god he’s useless.

He’s left it too long, now. 

He can feel the air prickle when Snafu retreats back into his shell, thumping his head against the window again when Eugene doesn’t say anything back. He steels himself and reaches over blindly, resting his hand delicately on Snafu’s shoulder. The boy jumps, not expecting the sudden contact. Eugene winces but pushes through it, hoping that whatever he’s doing helps Snafu in some way. His heart clenches in his chest when Snafu reaches up to place a cold, bony hand atop his. The blood is almost dry and some smudges onto his own skin but Eugene doesn’t even notice. Suddenly his back is off the seat and he’s sitting ramrod straight, electricity dancing through his veins.

“Well, since he didn’t, I gotta,” he declares, indicating hurriedly before making the sharpest turn of the night onto a gravel drive. 

“What’re you doing?” Snafu’s legs slip down from the seat as the car pitches forward, and he bounces up and down before Eugene can slow to a safer speed.

“I’m gettin’ you a damn tree, Snaf,” Eugene clicks off the high beams, slowing the car to a crawl as they descend upon the empty farm. Eugene hasn’t been here since his middle school class took a field trip here to see how bees made honey. Snafu looks at him like he grew a second head. 

“It’s almost two in the mornin’.”

“Doesn’t matter.” 

“Alright,” Snafu squints, shrugging. “If we get arrested for trespassing, I’m gonna say you kidnapped me.”

“Sounds good to me.” While Eugene makes an effort to close his door gently, he’s pretty sure Snafu slams it as hard as he can. The bang reverberates throughout the farm from where they’re parked next to the red barn. “Shhhh!” Eugene pushes a finger to his lips aggressively. He can see Snafu’s shoulders shaking in the dark as he laughs. 

“Where’re the trees, Sledgehamma’?” 

“Don’t know. Haven’t been here in a while.” 

“Oooh,” Snafu hums, “Improv. I like ya’ style, boy.” 

They tiptoe around the barn, cheeks pink from the cold dampness in the air. 

“I think it’s gonna rain, boo,” Snafu whispers just before Eugene’s foot catches on the edge of a dip in the ground and he pitches forward. Snafu grabs him by the arm, his long fingers wrapping around his bicep tightly. A low wince escapes his lips as he pulls Eugene up, and he presses his free hand against his side gingerly. “Not you,” he chuckles, feigning nonchalance as he slips his arm around Eugene’s. Worry clouds Eugene’s mind at the sight of his friend’s obvious discomfort, but he knows he shouldn’t mention it. He’s not a therapist by any means and even if Snafu does tell him he doubts he’ll know what to do next. Besides, it takes a lot of concentration to keep breathing normally when all he can think about is the warmth radiating from where their arms are linked. He’ll end up face-down in the dirt before the night is over, at this rate. After stumbling around in the dark—it feels like seconds, but if he’s being honest it’s probably been half an hour—they find the trees. 

There aren’t a lot left. It’s Christmas Eve, after all. 

They stand like a couple of old cigarettes in a beat-up pack. Bundled in netting to keep the branches safe, seven lonely trees lean against a chipping wooden rack.

They choose the largest one— “go big or go home” Snafu says, pulling it forward with more force than necessary and almost toppling over when it swings forward—and instantly regret it as soon as they begin dragging it back to the car. When they’re tying it down to the roof rack with twine Snafu asks Eugene is he’s going to pay for it. Leave behind some money in the mud or something. 

“Nah,” he answers, tying the twine off in a tight knot, “it’s Christmas Eve, I doubt this tree’ll be going anywhere otherwise.” 

“Mmm, a bad boy. What’d your mama say?” 

“Nothing, ‘cause she ain’t gonna hear about this.” As they’re looping twine around the bottom half of the tree the sky opens. 

“Toldya’ it was gonna rain, Sledgehamma’!” Snafu shouts over the sudden torrents of rain, a crack of lightning illuminating his excited face. Eugene can’t feel the cold wet seeping into his pajamas when his eyes land on Snafu’s own: wide enough that he can see the whites, almost happy.

“We did it,” Eugene breathes out a sigh of relief and falls back against his seat after they’ve both slammed their doors shut. Rain pounds against the front window. He looks over at Snafu, who’s wheezing with laughter and just as soaking wet as he is. Wet curls frame his face. His olive skin somehow manages to glow despite the darkness.

Eugene starts the car before he does something stupid.

Once he pulls out of the farm’s driveway he pulls his phone out of his pocket, scrolling through his music.

“The radio has too much holiday crap,” he explains before synching up the Bluetooth. 

The sky grows brighter, developing like a photograph from black and deep shades of purple to pinks, greys, and blues. The car zooms down the highway, a few loose branches from the roof flapping against the windows. The windshield wipers swipe the front window dry over and over again. The heater is on full blast, the inside of the car a bubble of warmth as opposed to the downpour outside. Snafu shakes his head like a dog and Eugene swats at him, not bothering to conceal the smile on his face. 

The  [ music ](https://youtu.be/6L4Ojl8bVdc) begins with a rewinding tape. The lyrics are repetitive, steady, weighty. The sun peeks over the fields in the distance and Snafu opens his mouth to sing along, loud and deep and thick with Louisiana drawl. Something powerful stirs within Eugene’s chest and he grips the wheel tighter. Eugene happens to look over the second Snafu does, both their faces alight with the most genuine smiles they’ve had in a long time. Eugene can’t remember the last time he’s seen Snafu smile without a hint of self-deprecation, malice, or irritation. Snafu doesn’t have the best singing voice, but he waves his hands around and shouts and for a second Eugene thinks his heart murmur might be acting up because _ is this what a heart attack feels like _ . Snafu’s Cajun cadence overpowers the song’s vocalists, slightly off-key and beautiful. When the song winds down Eugene indicates and pulls over, putting the car in park and grabbing his flower blanket Snafu had thrown into the back seats. He’s trying to dry his hair with it when Snafu clears his throat.

“‘Gene. Thank you,” Snafu bites at his lower lip. He hums from the back of his throat like he’s thinking about something, a far-away look in his eyes. “Thank you for doing all this for me.” The pink morning sky illuminates his face; Eugene half-notices how the rain has washed away the blood. Even bathed in morning light Snafu didn’t have a face that could be painted. Every angle, every harsh line was carved in stone.

“I…” Eugene pauses, wondering if he should say it or not. “There’s not a lot I wouldn’t do for you.” The hands on his cheek are cold. Large blue eyes that have seen too much and not enough gaze at him, half-lidded but bright, questioning. Snafu lays his thumb gently against the edge of Eugene’s mouth, exhaling shakily as he traces his bottom lip slowly. He leans closer slowly, deliberately, as if a quick unexpected movement might scare Eugene away.

_ “Oh, if only you knew,” _ Eugene thought to himself,  _ “nothing you do could ever scare me away.” _

It’s Eugene who leans forward in the end, Eugene who holds Snafu by the back of the head, Eugene who kisses Snafu as softly as he can. As soon as their lips meet they inhale sharply through their noses in unison, the air minted in gold and silver and so so so electric. Snafu’s lips are soft and smooth and Eugene kisses him and tries to mend all the damage and take away all the pain and all the unfairness. They bite with their lips and sweep tongues against teeth, pulling each other closer. When they part it’s with great reluctance, grasping each other’s faces and remaining close enough to touch forehead to forehead, their noses brushing.

An unspoken promise.

They don’t speak. 

They don’t need to. 

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading!   
> The song referenced is Tomorrow by Miner :)   
> I've got into university so hopefully I'll be able to write a lot more. Have a wonderful day!


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